


Seasons like Winter

by enthugger



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angsty Bromance, First War with Voldemort, Friendship, Gen, Sirius has a lot of feelings, but tries not to be scared, everyone is scared and wartorn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 11:53:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13740315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enthugger/pseuds/enthugger
Summary: Order meetings get smaller. Things get worse. In other words, they’re going to lose. Sirius finds that it’s easier to spend what could be his last days in the company of people who don’t make his heart clench when he sees them.In which the Marauders fight a war and life goes on behind the front lines.





	Seasons like Winter

**Author's Note:**

> My 12 year old Harry Potter feels came back to haunt me, here they are. I'm sorry.

It is the day before a full moon. That time of evening when afternoon turns into night too soon and before you know it, you can barely see. Sirius and James are on the couch. James has a paper up in front of him, but he’s not really reading. Whether it’s because he’s distracted or because he’s certain that at least half of the reporters are Death Eater plants in the ministry, Sirius isn’t sure. 

Remus hasn’t sat still all day. He’s pacing, walking laps around the Potters’ living room much like – Sirius hates to say it – an anxious dog. Sirius shifts on the couch, tucks his hair behind one ear. This almost feels like school again, all of them together waiting for the moon to rise, waiting for adventure. Except for the fact that they haven’t seen each other in months, Peter is still off on somewhere else, there are dark bags under Remus’ eyes, and James looks over his shoulder more than he used to. 

So maybe it’s not like school at all. 

“He’s not coming.” Remus finally stops pacing, stands twisting the corner of his coat between his fingers, his back to James and Sirius as he faces the window. 

“At least let one of us come with you.” James has finally lowered the newspaper, but is studying a seam in the couch instead, clearly uncomfortable. “It’s not safe.” 

Remus turns around, shaking his head, “This is my assignment, I’ll be fine on my own. There’s no reason to put us all in danger.” 

“I think it’s a bit late for that.” It’s meant to lighten the mood, but the words hang flat in the air around them. Sirius sighs, watches Remus frown at him and turn up his collar, clearly about to end the conversation by leaving it. 

Suddenly James pushes himself up and crosses the room in two strides, he’s reaching out to catch Remus’s arm but stops when Remus’s hand drops from the doorknob without turning it. 

Still facing the door, Remus’s gaze is on his shoes. “I’m so tired, James. I just need to…” He gestures vaguely around himself, indicating…freedom? Nonconfinement? Imminent death? Sirius notices that he’s gotten skinner, his clothes hang from his shoulders more than they used to, his hands look too big on his small wrists. 

“Yeah.” James drops his hand onto Remus’s shoulder, squeezes briefly. “Yeah, okay. Just don’t kill anyone, right?” It’s an old joke, or an attempt at one. 

“Right.” Remus shrugs him off, opens the door and mutters over his shoulder, angrier than Sirius has seen him in a long time, “Don’t worry, I’ve taken a potion.” 

\--

Order meetings get smaller. Things get worse. In other words, they’re going to lose. Sirius finds that it’s easier to spend what could be his last days in the company of people who don’t make his heart clench when he sees them. 

There’s a witch in a pub one night who he might have sat across from him one year in Potions, maybe a Ravenclaw. She smiles at him, then she pushes him out into the cold and Sirius steers them towards his flat. She’s cute, drinks fire whiskey straight, and leaves bite marks. Sirius comes back the next night – not looking for her specifically, of course – but he doesn’t see her again. 

There’s a wizard, a bar tender - he jokes, one of the only safe professions in these times when it’s easier to stare down the bottom of a glass than it is to look out the window. He kisses hard, like it’s the end of the world, teaches Sirius a spell that binds his wrists to the bed frame, and Sirius is more than up for round two. Except that when he wakes, the man is in the kitchen, making him a cup of tea. He smiles as Sirius leans against the doorframe and Sirius mumbles excuses, turning to collect his clothes because this feels all too much like something he could come to care about. 

There’s a witch who claims to be half goblin, an old school fling who cries over the death of his sister, a muggle who tells him it was the best night of her life. 

Sirius doesn’t know what happens to them, isn’t sure he cares. 

\--

He knows James is busy. With a kid, a family, a war on his doorstep. And Sirius isn’t always sure he can face his halfhearted attempts at humor or the way his frown lines soften when he looks at his son. It’s times like these that Sirius finds himself transformed, padding down the end of James’s street or sitting a sort of guard with his nose to the wind, tail tucked around his back paws on the cold cobblestones. 

The chill seeps into his fur and he shivers, that full body shake that feels so good in this form. 

He smells James approach before he hears him, hears his too loud footsteps before he feels him come to stand beside him, warm and solid. Sirius doesn’t even feel guilty at being caught out in his unnecessary watch, just a strange sort of gut wrenching relief. 

“You could come inside, you know.” 

Sirius shifts slightly so his side brushes against James’s leg.

“Or you could creep around outside my house all night like a stalker. Oh no, do you remember in fifth year when that girl stalked you for a month? As I recall, she was very persistent” There’s a smile in James’s voice as he reminisces, “and successful.” 

Sirius thumps his tail on the ground once. He remembers she was in Hufflepuff. She wrote him a love note which he’d pretended to hate. He wonders if she’s alive. 

James’s hand lands on his back, fingers tangle in his fur. 

“Thank you.” 

He’s here. They’re all somehow still here. Sometimes Sirius thinks it’s enough. 

\--

Peter follows him home one night. Well, not follows so much as they’re talking late and neither of them wants to be alone and neither of them wants to admit it. Peter knocks the toe of his boot against the step before Sirius’s flat, glancing back over his shoulder before stepping inside. 

Without saying anything, Sirius goes to get them drinks.

He notices the way Peter clenches his hands together in his lap when he leaves the room, the way Peter keeps silently opening and closing his mouth as he sets a bottle and two glasses on the table in front of them, and he hates it. Peter finally speaks up while he’s pouring. 

“Sirius.” He doesn’t look up from the glasses, and Peter tries again. “Sirius, I need to tell you something.” 

He’s so earnest, eyes wide, hands shaking, and Sirius isn’t sure he can handle that much openness so he simply hands Peter’s drink across, shaking his head. 

“Not now.”

“Please, I don’t know what to do. I’m –“ 

Sirius cuts him off as he leans across the table, wrapping an arm around him, and Peter finally shuts up as Sirius pulls him against his shoulder, briefly squeezing the back of his neck before he lets go. 

“I know.” Sirius sits back, picks up his drink and downs it before meeting Peter’s eyes once more, “Believe me, I know.” 

Peter frowns slightly, confused. But his hands have stopped shaking when he picks up his glass and Sirius isn’t quite sure what he’ll do if anyone else tries to tell him that they’re scared. 

Because he’s terrified.


End file.
